


The Three of Us

by lost_stickie_note



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: #stickieallover, Angst, Cheating, Heavy Angst, M/M, Plus add a bit more Angst, even more angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-07-16 05:41:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16079600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_stickie_note/pseuds/lost_stickie_note
Summary: Don't have a good summary that I can put without spoilers, so... #angst.A Zhangjunting fic.Note: Tagged with cheating, so if this bothers you, just a heads up. Marked Explicit just in case?#Zhangjunting #stickieallover





	1. The Paramour

**Author's Note:**

> I love this a lot, but it's just really angsty. -hides- Don't hate me. D:
> 
> I promise to have happier releases somewhere on the horizon. Feels like forever since I've posted anything, just been a lot of stuff happening lately. -huggles- I am itching to start my next Zhangjun fic, but it'll likely not be started until I have time during winter break. D:
> 
> Just as a warning, there is a switch back and forth between the present and past, denoted by present and past tense. I tried to make the transitions as seamless as possible, thus the lack of the usually line breaks.
> 
> Shameless promotion of all my other works. :)
> 
> Comments, kudos, and feedback are always appreciated!
> 
> Thank you to my wonderful beta-reader, you know who you are. :)
> 
> Follow me on Twitter: [@loststickienote](https://twitter.com/loststickienote) for updates, randomness, etc. or to scream at me about 9% :o DMs always open.

Zhengting groans with pleasure at the feeling of hands roaming over his body, searing his skin with a warmness, a sharp contrast to the nippy air of the winter they seem to be stuck in. And the other boy’s thumbs are pressing hard into his hipbones, fingers eagerly on the inside of his thighs, prying them open. He gasps hard when he feels himself being filled, the cock pressed up tight against his insides, and the slow thrusts make him whimper, still a little uncomfortable after not being prepared. But the strokes pick up, faster, and Zhengting rolls his eyes back in pleasure at the feeling of being utterly _fucked_. Because he can’t stop the moans of desire falling from his lips, biting down on his sheets to muffle the sounds of any screaming that might start.

 

“You’re such a fucking _whore_.”

 

The scathing remark only serves to make his muscles tighten, his hole clench, dizzy with desire and need. “Yes, I a-am. Please, f-fuck your l-little whore.”

 

And he cries out when he comes, the name piercing the air. “Zhangjing!”

 

Zhengting feels his body, tired from overexertion, collapse in a heap on to the bed, and he rolls onto his side to face the other boy who is smirking at him. “Really?”

 

He can feel himself getting defensive, the anger rising up. “I can’t help it.”

 

“Well, maybe I can bang that instinct out of you.”

 

“I doubt it.”

 

The other boy falls silent, expression unreadable. His voice is soft and quiet. “Yeah, I doubt it too.”

 

Zhengting didn’t know he was in love with Zhangjing until too late.

 

Not until the day Yanjun appeared in their lives and the smaller boy was looking at Yanjun smitten with all the signs of a first love written all over his face, his eyes sparkling with hope, smiling widely with his oversized bunny teeth, going slightly pink in the face. Even worse, it was Zhengting who had unwittingly introduced them, unluckily drawing Yanjun as his project partner by random assignment. Zhangjing had taken one look at the other boy and had invited Yanjun to their friend Ziyi’s party. And Zhengting had spent the entire night downing drink after drink watching Zhangjing awkwardly try and flirt with the other boy who seemed somewhat oblivious to the smaller boy’s advances.

 

But Yanjun would get it eventually, and the other boy would for sure fall for Zhangjing.

 

Because who wouldn’t?

 

The thought made him sick to his stomach, and he had ended the night throwing up in their bathroom as Zhangjing patted him on the back and brought him water like the good best friend he was.

 

All the while talking excitedly about Yanjun.

 

It took Yanjun a mind-numbing three weeks.

 

And all of a sudden, Zhangjing wasn’t just his anymore.

 

And they were now a group of three, not a pair, when hanging out, Yanjun sticking to them like a persistent parasite. Or at least that’s what Zhengting thought. And he couldn’t seem to like the other boy no matter how hard he tried. Because no matter what he did, the jealousy was always there, a bubbling underneath the surface that appeared in the form of searing pain each time he saw their fingertips brush. Or the loving looks, stolen in between busy moments. Or the blush that spread over Zhangjing’s cheeks when Yanjun smiled. And how desperately Zhengting wished he was the one taking in the view from the front instead of watching it off to the side.

 

He never hated Yanjun more when he was forced to stand behind Zhangjing, a fake smile plastered to his face, as he watched his best friend get married.

 

But he could never resist when Zhangjing smiled at him, invited him to come hang out with the two of them, even when it burned a hole in his chest each time he was around them acting like the sappy married couple they rightfully were. So he kept that smile on his face no matter what happened because he couldn’t bear to lose the other boy. And sometimes, he could even pretend that Yanjun didn’t exist, that he was the one married to Zhangjing, when the shorter boy smiled at him, face craning upwards to brush the flour out of his hair as they baked.

 

Baking was something that belonged to them.

 

Yanjun hated baking.

 

Or when the other boy used his fingertip to swipe the batter that would inevitably get on Zhengting’s face, licking the deliciousness from his fingers, making Zhengting’s heart pound so loud he was sure the older boy would hear. But the moment would inevitably be broken once Yanjun strode into the kitchen later on, smirking at Zhangjing and stealing some of the finished dessert.

 

Zhangjing would laugh and scold the younger boy. “Yanjun, stop, we’re not done decorating the top of the cake yet. You can have some later.”

 

And Zhengting would fake laugh right along.

 

Rinse and repeat.

 

“Well, I guess I should go now.” The other boy is standing awkwardly at the foot of his bed, still naked after sex. “It’s getting late.”

 

Zhengting groans when he sees the clock on his bedside table, flashing an accusatory time at him. “Yeah, you should probably leave. It’s already past midnight. Scram.”

 

The other boy raises an eyebrow at him. “So eager to get rid of me.” The teasing tone sends a shiver of arousal through him. “Are you sure you don’t want to go another round?”

 

“Not a chance.”

 

But his body is a traitor as his hips arch up automatically to meet the other boy’s mouth, the strokes from the other boy’s tongue drawing out mewls of pleasure from his lips. And the other boy’s hands are holding Zhengting’s hips down as he squirms from arousal, his lower half trapped in between the other boy’s legs. And he hates himself when he nods yes in response to the question. “Want to get on top?”

 

And he closes his eyes when he does, rocking his hips back and forth slowly after sitting all the way down on the other boy’s cock, his inner thighs pressed flush up against warm skin, the other boy’s sharp hip bones digging into him. The moan escapes from his lips as he finds the spot, and he picks up the pace, dissolving into pants as he imagines. The wanton groan of need makes him crack open one eye, the other boy’s face of arousal swimming into his view. It makes the flush crawl up his neck.

 

“Keep going, Zhengting.”

 

So he does, and Zhengting sees stars as he comes, mouth open in a silent scream. And he gets up too quickly, the other boy’s cum smearing messily across the insides of his thighs.

 

“You’re such a messy whore.”

 

“And who’s fault is that?” He retorts, reaching for the tissues on his bedside table to wipe up some of the mess.

 

“You were a messy whore long before me.”

 

And Zhengting feels his chest tighten, stealing his breath away. Because the other boy isn’t _wrong_ per se. He’s spent the last few years pining and lusting after his married best friend. Yeah, so not wrong.

 

“Maybe I was messy.” Zhengting pauses. “But you made me the whore.”

 

Zhengting remembers the first time.

 

“Hey Zhangji-“ He was excited, rushing over to tell his best friend the good news, knocking impatiently on Zhangjing’s door. He had finally gotten that promotion at work after busting his ass off for the last two years, and the first person he wanted to tell was Zhangjing. After all, it was his friend who had convinced him to take the job, insisting that Zhengting should do something he loved instead of thinking about what his parents wanted.

 

But it was Yanjun who opened the door, expression awkward. “Hey, Zhangjing’s still at work. He called to say he’d be late.”

 

Zhengting didn’t really know what to say.

 

The other boy paused. “But you can feel free to wait here until he comes back if you want.”

 

He nodded gratefully. “Thanks, Yanjun.”

 

“So what are you doing here?”

 

Zhengting bristled at the other boy’s question. _I have every right to be here._ But he makes his tone level as he responds. “Got that promotion that I’ve been gunning for, and I wanted to celebrate with Zhangjing.”

 

To his surprise, Yanjun smiled at him. “Oh, congrats.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

He followed the other boy into the kitchen. “Do you want some wine?”

 

Zhengting waffled, indecisive. _Why is Yanjun being so nice today?_ Not that the other boy wasn’t usually nice. They had managed to keep a somewhat cordial relationship over the years, mostly because Zhengting wasn’t willing to put sweet, smiling Zhangjing through any unnecessary drama. And it seemed as if the two of them had fallen into that same agreement, greeting each other as necessary and able to get along when in a group. It was what Zhengting would describe as an acquaintance-type relationship, neither close friends nor distant strangers.

 

But today was odd.

 

“Yeah, sure.”

 

Zhengting accepted the glass of wine from the other boy, giving a nod of thanks, settling beside Yanjun on the couch. Four glasses in, and Zhengting was feeling great. In fact, he was feeling more than great. He was feeling _ah-mah-zing._ Yanjun gave him an amused look as he giggled. “What’s so funny?”

 

“Nooooothing.” Zhengting replied in a sing-song voice. “I just realized that we’ve never hung out alone before. And you’re not as miserable to be with as I thought you’d be.”

 

An affronted look. “You thought I’d be miserable to hang out with?”

 

“Sort of.”

 

“Why though?”

 

Zhengting’s eyes widened conspiratorially. “Because I don’t really like you much.” He paused. “You sort of wrecked my life.”

 

Yanjun cocked an eyebrow at him, responding drily. “Oh really? How so?”

 

Zhengting winked, pressing one finger to his mouth in a shushing motion. “It’s a secret.”

 

The other boy looked at him, curiosity piqued. “Oh yeah? Well, what can I do to make you tell me this so-called secret?”

 

He laughed. “Absolutely nothing.”

 

“Hmmm, really?” That infuriating smirk graced Yanjun’s features, the other boy staring at him with a dangerous glint in his eyes. “I bet I can make you.”

 

And Zhengting didn’t know why, but all of a sudden, the other boy was way too close for comfort, Yanjun’s face a few inches from his. And he could see every detail on the other boy’s face, not realizing until now just how perfect Yanjun’s features were. _No wonder Zhangjing loves him._ And Zhengting felt the age-old jealousy bubble up in him again, threatening to choke him. The bitterness tasted sour on his tongue, and all he wanted to do was wipe that goddamn stupid smirk off Yanjun’s face. Because it was all his fault. Perfect Yanjun this, perfect Yanjun that. And if Yanjun wasn’t in the picture, then maybe, maybe, maybe-

 

A choked up sob rose in his throat, and Zhengting was half-aware that there were tears rolling down his cheeks. Big, fat, ugly tears. And in the moment, he wasn’t sure whether he hated Yanjun more or himself. Because he was the one that introduced them in the first place. _Or maybe I should have said something to Zhangjing before it was too late._

 

But the regret hurt, and he was so, so tired of feeling like shit. Tired of running and hiding from his anger, pushing it down in some stupid façade that he had to wear in front of his best friend all the time. When all he wanted to do sometimes was rage and scream at Zhangjing.

 

_Why did you choose Yanjun over me?_

And the anger rose up, sharp and burning in his chest, and in a moment of spite, he did it. A swift motion, and he had pulled Yanjun’s face towards his, slamming his lips up against the other boy’s, hard enough that their teeth clashed together.

 

That one split moment.

 

But then the horror took over, and Zhengting was scrambling, scrambling backwards. Or at least trying to. But Yanjun was kissing him back for some reason, his tongue coaxing Zhengting to open his mouth. And Zhengting parted his lips in surprise, not meaning to let Yanjun in. But when the other boy swirled his tongue in Zhengting’s mouth, Zhengting felt his heart breaking in two.

 

Because Yanjun tasted like Zhangjing.

 

Tasted exactly how Zhengting remembered from their one sloppy drunk kiss in college, the moment when the older boy had given him butterflies in his stomach, the two of them lying in bed together after a long night of partying. And Zhengting had spent the night tracing the curves on Zhangjing’s face with his gaze as the older boy fell asleep in his bed. He had to carefully remove Zhangjing’s fingers from his hair, where they were still tangled up from when the older boy had been running his fingers through, exclaiming at how soft Zhengting was.

 

Everything afterwards was a blur, and there was only one thing that Zhengting remembered vividly.

 

Screaming Zhangjing’s name as Yanjun fucked him to release.

 

And the realization that dawned on Yanjun’s face.

 

He had avoided the both of them for weeks afterwards, too ashamed to face Zhangjing, scared shitless that his best friend would see the truth on his face the instant they saw each other.

 

That he had fucked Yanjun in _their_ bed.

 

And then the knock on his door that made his skin crawl, his stomach feeling nauseated. He had expected an angry Zhangjing at the door, coming to give him hell with all the wrath he could muster. But it wasn’t. Instead, a wet and soggy Yanjun was standing there when he opened it, eyes bright with desperation. “Come back, please, Zhengting. Zhangjing is miserable without you. He thinks he fucked something up between the two of you.”

 

_No, it’s me that’s fucked something up._

Zhengting mumbled a half-formed apology. “I-I just can’t. I don’t know, I j-just can’t.”

 

“Please. Zhangjing needs you.” Yanjun’s voice broke. “ _We_ need you.”

 

And suddenly, Zhengting was wet, the other boy pressed up against him. And the taste of Zhangjing was in his mouth, Yanjun’s hands in his hair, tugging. Then the other boy was peeling off his rain-soaked clothes, and a gasp escaped from his lips. Because it was the first time he had seen Yanjun truly naked, his memory too hazy from drinking to recall any of the details the last time. _Goddamn he’s beautiful._

 

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before they were lying in his bed side by side, facing each other in the dark. And Zhengting could just barely make out the other boy’s features. “Please come back, Zhengting. I-I just don’t know.” And Yanjun was fumbling around to find the right words. “…we just don’t work without you.” The other boy’s voice was filled with a deep sadness, a remorse.

 

“Okay, I will.”

 

Zhangjing cried with happiness when Zhengting saw him for the first time since The Incident.

 

“I thought you hated me.” Zhangjing blubbered, the tears making his voice quiver.

 

Zhengting’s gaze flicked up Yanjun for a second before taking the shorter boy’s face in his hands, his thumbs wiping away the tears on Zhangjing’s cheeks, his voice fierce and resolute.

 

“Of course not. I could never hate you, Zhangjing.”

 

_Just myself._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, kudos, and feedback are always appreciated!
> 
> Twitter: [@loststickienote](https://twitter.com/loststickienote)  
> CuriousCat: [Ask me anything! @loststickienote](https://curiouscat.me/loststickienote)


	2. The Cheater

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> La~~ The second chapter. Enjoy!
> 
> Shameless promotion of all my other works. :)
> 
> Comments, kudos, and feedback are always appreciated!
> 
> Thank you to my wonderful beta-reader, you know who you are. :)
> 
> Follow me on Twitter: [@loststickienote](https://twitter.com/loststickienote) for updates, randomness, etc. or to scream at me about 9% :o DMs always open.

“But you made me the whore.”

 

Yanjun raises his eyebrow at the scathing comment. He supposes this might be true, and only his tiredness stops him from coming back with a snippy comment. _After all, it takes two to tango._ Zhengting is pulling on his boxers hastily, his legs swung over to the side of the bed, and Yanjun studies the curves of the other boy’s back. Zhengting is lithe and sinewy, every inch of his body defined by the years and years of dance lessons he took as a child. And Yanjun admires the dip in the other boy’s lower back, the spot where he likes to rest his fingers when he grasps at the other boy’s waist as Zhengting is on top riding his cock. That same dip in the back is lower on Zhangjing.

 

_Zhangjing._

Yanjun closes his eyes briefly and breathes deeply.

 

He looked up to see a very attractive boy standing in front of his desk, shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably. “So, I guess we’re project partners. Do you have a preference for when to meet?”

 

Yanjun shrugged. “This was my last class of the day. If you have time now, I’d be happy to just go over what we want to do and split responsibilities.”

 

The other boy nodded. “Sounds good. My name is Zhengting by the way. I don’t think we’ve ever met.”

 

_Definitely not. I would have remembered someone as beautiful as you._

“Yanjun. Nice to meet you.”

 

He followed the other boy out of the classroom, running slightly to catch up as Zhengting’s strides a lot faster than he anticipated. _Such good luck to get him for a partner._ He didn’t really know the other boy, but he had noticed that Zhengting was always quick to answer the difficult questions in class, his hand stretched in a perfect straight line when he raised it. In a way, he truly admired Zhengting for trying so hard, something that didn’t seem to come as naturally to him. “Hey, where are we going?”

 

The other boy turned briefly to look at him, his fluffy head of hair bobbing in front of Yanjun. A small pout graced his face as he brought his hand up to push his glasses up higher on the bridge of his nose. “I wanted drop by the library and see someone really quick before starting. We made plans later tonight, but I don’t know how long _this_ is going to take.” Zhengting gestured at him vaguely.

 

Okay, sort of rude, but whatever.

 

Yanjun followed the other boy into the library, making their way towards a table at the back where a boy is sitting alone, his head dipped down reading what Yanjun presumed was a textbook for class. He watched as Zhengting tapped the other boy lightly on the head with his index finger. “Zhangjing.”

 

The other boy’s head shot up so quickly that Yanjun had to muffle his laughter at the comedy of it all. “Zhengting!” Zhangjing’s voice was bright and cheerful, his face splitting into a huge grin upon seeing his friend. “I thought we were meeting later.”

 

“Slight change of plans. I need to work out some project details with him first.”

 

And for the first time, Zhangjing noticed him, standing slightly behind Zhengting, and Yanjun felt his breath catch in his throat. It wasn’t that the other boy was the most handsome or the most beautiful, but Zhangjing radiated a pure warmth with his smile, one that made his fingers tingle and the edges of his mouth turn up automatically into a smile back. And Yanjun felt his cheeks warming as the other boy’s eyes widened upon seeing him, his eyes darting around as if he was not sure where to look, a light pink dusting his cheekbones.

“Ummm, Zhengting, w-who’s this?” And Yanjun found himself suppressing his giggles again at the stutter in the shorter boy’s voice.

 

“This is Yanjun.”

 

“Hi, Yanjun. I’m Zhangjing.”

 

The shorter boy sticks out his hand for him to shake, and Yanjun grasps it firmly.

 

_Warm._

Yanjun opens his eyes hearing the ringtone, watching as Zhengting picks up. “Hi, Zhangjing.” The other boy gives him a sidelong glance. “No, sorry, but I can’t come over right now.” A pause. “Yanjun needs to stay late at work today?” Zhengting nods vigorously as he talks, throwing on his pajama bottoms and making his way towards the kitchen. “Yeah, yeah. He’s working so hard because he loves you, Zhangjing…”

 

The other boy’s voice trails off as he moves further away, and Yanjun flops back down into Zhengting’s bed, staring up at ceiling. _I’ll make it up to Zhangjing this weekend._ And he gets up, lazily making his way towards Zhengting’s shower. The hot water washes over him, and he scrubs hard at his skin, working to wash away the scent of Zhengting off his body as he thinks. _Maybe that new bakery he’s been dying to try._ Yanjun smiles fondly thinking about the other boy who has been clamoring to visit the new place that had just opened, exclaiming that they’ve been getting rave reviews online and they just _have to go_. _Yes, that will be a nice surprise._

 

Yanjun imagines the smile on the other boy’s face, sure to appear when he takes the older boy on a date. And the look of utter pleasure that would appear once Zhangjing takes a bite of a delicious dessert. And inevitably the frosting or crumbs of cake that would be left behind on the older boy’s face. _Zhangjing is such a messy eater._ He is always the one who has to wipe it off, his fingers swiping over the other boy’s lips, his fingers dipping into Zhangjing’s mouth, the other boy looking up at him with his doe-like eyes…Yanjun groans as he feels the arousal shoot straight to his groin, his cock hardening thinking about the older boy. And his hand moves automatically to stroke him, urging on a quick release as he imagines Zhangjing on his knees sucking his cock. Yanjun closes his eyes as the pleasure makes him dizzy.

 

_So close._

“Yanjun, you should get home now. Zhangjing’s waiting.”

 

The sound of Zhengting’s voice knocks him back to reality, realizing the water has already run cold.

 

He doesn’t finish.

 

Yanjun sighed, putting down his half-finished cup of beer on the table, eyeing Zhengting who is knocking back perhaps his fifth or sixth shot, clearly starting to stagger, bumping into walls while moving through the crowd at the house party. Zhangjing is following the other boy around, making sure Zhengting isn’t going to get into worse trouble. The whole scene was just reminding him of how much he hated parties and why he avoided them like the plague. _Why did I come again?_ Oh right, because Zhangjing was cute as a button, and he had accepted the invitation as soon as the older boy offered, forgetting instantly that he was essentially a hermit.

 

But the instant they had shown up at the party, he had regretted it. He had spent the better part of two hours watching Zhengting get drunk out of his mind and Zhangjing following the other boy around like a mother hen. And Yanjun had spent the last hour or so trying to figure out whether he was a complete idiot and had read the situation completely wrong. _Are they together?_ The only reassuring part were the few moments that Zhangjing would glance back at him with a worried look, biting his lower lip as if he wished to say something.

 

Zhangjing mouthed the words ‘I’m sorry’ at him.

 

It was enough to keep Yanjun from leaving.

 

“I’m back!” Yanjun declares to the quiet apartment. _Zhangjing must be in bed already._ He makes his way back to their bedroom, opening the door to find the other boy’s small figure curled up under the covers. And he crawls under the covers to join Zhangjing, his body falling naturally to spoon the older boy, a perfect fit. Zhangjing murmurs sleepily as he wraps his arms over the smaller boy’s frame, and Yanjun feels the stirrings of arousal forming as he remembers his earlier shower, having not satisfied his desires. And Zhangjing squirms in his arms as he presses his half-formed erection against the older boy’s ass. “Y-Yanjun…”

 

He smiles as he hears the other boy’s whine, knowing he’s succeeded, and he kisses the back of the older boy’s neck, his hand coming up to palm Zhangjing’s growing erection. Zhangjing growls, and Yanjun laughs as the smaller boy sloppily rolls over in order to straddle him. “You’re late.” Zhangjing pouts at him, his lower lip sticking out, and Yanjun glides his thumb over it, groaning when the smaller boy parts his mouth to deftly suck.

 

“I know.”

 

Zhangjing whines when he presses his thumbs into the other boy’s hipbones, his hips rolling over Yanjun’s body, trying to find friction. It isn’t long before Zhangjing is writhing in pleasure on top of him, his hips angled upwards to help the smaller boy move up and down on his cock, his hands around Zhangjing’s waist for balance. The older boy finishes first, the sticky mess spread all over his stomach, and Yanjun pants as he watches Zhangjing’s body go slack as his orgasm rips through him, his head thrown back in pleasure.

 

He lets out a strangled cry as he comes, the smaller boy pulsating tightly around him, driving him over the edge.

 

Then his second shower of the night.

 

“Showers?” Zhangjing giggled at him. “That’s what you like to do in your spare time?”

 

Yanjun pouted as the smaller boy made absolutely no effort to hide that he was outright laughing at him. “Why not?” He rebuked defensively. “They calm me, okay?”

 

He was happy that the two of them were getting to hang out alone, the third boy uncharacteristically absent today, needing to stay home after coming down with a cold. Yanjun looked fondly at the older boy, licking his ice cream cone as he snuck glances. Zhangjing was digging into his ice cream enthusiastically, getting chocolate as he got a strawberry cone, and Yanjun had insisted that he would pay for both of their treats. He quickly shifted his gaze downwards as the older boy turned his face to look at him, his cheeks feeling warm. _I hope he didn’t catch me staring at him._ He flinched when he felt Zhangjing’s fingers on his face, the older boy’s laugh tinkling in the air. “Yanjun, you’re so messy.”

 

And he gaped at Zhangjing as the other boy winked at him, swiping off the ice cream on Yanjun’s face with his thumb and licking it off his finger.

 

Yanjun tried desperately not to make eye contact, his gaze darting around wildly, hoping that the other boy can’t see the flush that he can feel crawling up his neck. _Quick, a change of topic._ “Uhhh, so it’s kind of weird that Zhengting isn’t here today. I feel like you two are always stuck at the hip.”

 

Zhangjing nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, we’ve been best friends since forever. He’s sort of my soulmate.”

 

He felt the sinking feeling start in his chest, the nausea settling in. “What do you mean?”

 

“We just get each other, that’s all.”

 

Yanjun was almost too afraid to ask, the words sounding small and squeaky. “Do you like him?” And he stared at the other boy intensely, hoping to hear no, because, because…

 

But now it was Zhangjing’s turn to avoid eye contact, and Yanjun felt his heart beat faster as the older boy blushed, the pink dusting his cheeks. And Zhangjing was wringing his hands fretfully, clearly anxious about _something_. “Uhh, no…” The older boy stuttered. “I, uhh, actually, I have someone else that I sort of like…” And the words trailed down to a whisper, with Zhangjing biting his lower lip, still not willing to look at Yanjun.

 

He felt the hope bloom in his chest.

 

_Maybe I’m not too late._

 

“Yanjun, wake up!” He groans when he feels the pillow hit him over the head. “We’re going to be late if you don’t get up now.”

 

He glances at the digital clock beside their bed. “I still have an hour and a half, Zhangjing. We’re not going to be late.”

 

“We will if you want to shower.”

 

_Fuck._

Two hours later, he’s running his hand through his still wet hair as they make their way towards the restaurant for brunch. “Zhengting!” Zhangjing spots the other boy and starts quickening his pace, enveloping the taller boy in a hug, making Zhengting laugh. “Hey, Zhangjing.” The other boy nods. “Yanjun.”

 

He’s mindlessly eating food as Zhangjing and Zhengting chat, a seemingly endless number of topics for them to talk about. _The two of them make a great pair._ Their poses almost mirror each other as they talk, their heads tilted to the side. And they are wholeheartedly enjoying their brunch, excited about trying the restaurant for the first time, one that a friend of Zhengting had recommended. He sighs inwardly as he watches the two of them trade bites of their food, narrowing his eyes slightly as Zhengting feeds Zhangjing from his spoon. Yanjun notes each little touch as the two talk, both of them the type of people to cling, their fingers brushing on the table every so often, both of them having the habit of grabbing at each other’s arms when they shriek with laughter.

 

And they laugh a lot together.

 

Once upon a time, it would have bothered him a lot more.

 

Yanjun tried to ignore the jealousy that rose up in him when Zhangjing asked if Zhengting could be included on the wedding planning. “Zhengting is my best man, and he lives for this type of stuff.” Zhangjing batted his eyes at him, mouth drawn into a pout. “Come on, Yanjun.”

 

He felt his heart melting a bit as the shorter boy grabbed at his sleeve. “Please? It’ll be so much easier if he helps with all the details. You were so impatient even with just the first afternoon of wedding cake tasting.” Zhangjing stopped and brushed the hair out of his face lovingly. “And I don’t want the wedding to stress you out.”

 

He gave in.

 

But months and months later, all he could focus on was the other boy, the other boy who had hand-picked all the flowers, table settings, food options, and god-knows-what-else, standing slightly behind the love of his life as he said his wedding vows.

 

_Maybe it should be him standing up here next to Zhangjing._

When Zhengting kissed him for the first time, he tasted desperation. And he didn’t know, didn’t know what it was that the other boy wanted over his own suffocating feelings. Why he wasn’t always the first one to know if Zhangjing had a problem. Why he felt like the outsider looking in, unwanted in the kitchen as the two of them baked as if it were a secret to be shared, their heads almost touching as they worked. Zhangjing brushing the flour out of Zhengting’s hair, Zhengting tying the bow on Zhangjing’s apron. Why it felt like he was in some _goddamn competition_.

 

Or why Zhengting felt the need to remind him carelessly that he would always know more, that Yanjun was never enough, when the other boy would mention to him things that Zhangjing liked. The other boy had started dropping hints after he saw what Yanjun picked out for their first anniversary of dating, his eyebrows drawn together in disapproval. _Get him this instead, Yanjun._

 

And Zhangjing had lit up with delight.

 

It wasn’t Zhengting’s desperation, it was his own.

 

The realization dawned on him when Zhengting screamed Zhangjing’s name as he came, with Yanjun finishing almost simultaneously.

 

And they were a tangle of limbs, strewn clothes across the floor, and Yanjun had never felt so sick in his entire life. “Get out.”

 

“I-I’m so sorry.”

 

“Just, get out. Now.”

 

He spent hours in the shower trying to scrub away his self-loathing.

 

Yanjun watches as Zhangjing waves goodbye to Zhengting, the other boy rushing off to complete some errands.

 

“Hey, Zhangjing?”

 

He wonders if he’ll ever stop feeling breathless when Zhangjing smiles at him.

 

“Yeah, Yanjun?”

 

“I have a surprise.”

 

Yanjun smiles contentedly as he sees Zhangjing light up the instant they reach the outside of the dessert place. The older boy’s voice rises seemingly a couple of octaves as he squeals. “You remembered!”

 

“Of course I did.”

 

He watches as the older boy digs into his flan, chattering excitedly about _how delicious_ it is and that it’s the _best flan I’ve ever tasted_. And he smiles back, nodding his agreement.

 

_I love you so much, Zhangjing._

 

He couldn’t tell Zhangjing.

 

Each time he tried to find the words, they would get stuck in his throat, unwillingly to come out, locked up tight inside of him. _I slept with your best friend, Zhangjing._ After all, what could he say to make any of it better? _Absolutely nothing._ “Hey, Yanjun?” The older boy was staring down at his phone, perplexed. “Have you talked to Zhengting recently?”

 

Yanjun felt his heart jump up into his throat. “No, uhhh, why do you ask?”

 

Zhangjing sighed dejectedly. “Nothing, he just hasn’t been returning any of my calls the last few days. And I just really need to talk to him about something.”

 

“Maybe he’s just busy right now?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Is there any way I can help you with it instead?”

 

“No, you can’t. Not for this.”

 

He felt a heaviness settling over his body, weighing him down, like stones tied to his feet, and he was drowning, drowning in an emptiness that he didn’t know was possible before. And he watched, watched as Zhangjing slipped further and further away from him over the next few weeks, just a sliver of light at the surface that he couldn’t reach. His words felt like he was speaking under water, garbled and distant even to his own ears as he asked Zhangjing to talk to him, gently begged as they laid in bed together, their bodies curled together.

 

The echo of silence felt loud to his ears.

 

And he tried, tried hard to understand, but he woke up gasping for breath in the mornings still feeling like he was drowning.

 

He knew Zhangjing loved him, but Zhangjing _needed_ Zhengting.

 

And that hurt worse than anything else.

 

“Come back, please, Zhengting. Zhangjing is miserable without you. He thinks he fucked something up between the two of you.

 

_Please, I don’t know how to fix it._

“I-I just can’t. I don’t know, I j-just can’t.”

“Please. Zhangjing needs you.” Yanjun’s voice broke. “ _We_ need you.”

_I don’t know if I can fix it._

And he tasted it, the desperation from before, bitter in his mouth, and it drove him forward, drove him into the other boy’s body, consumed by the burning need to fix what he had broken, shattered into sharp pieces all over the ground that he was searching desperately to find in the dark so that he could glue it all back together. And even if it was still cracked, even if the cracks were apparent in the light, maybe, just maybe he could fool himself into thinking it was fine if he kept them all in the dark, kept them all together.

 

_The three of us._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, kudos, and feedback are always appreciated!
> 
> Twitter: [@loststickienote](https://twitter.com/loststickienote)  
> CuriousCat: [Ask me anything! @loststickienote](https://curiouscat.me/loststickienote)


	3. The Jilted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me.
> 
> T.T The conclusion to my three-shot fanfic. I love them all, never forget.
> 
> Thank you to my lovely beta reader.
> 
> Follow me on Twitter: [@loststickienote](https://twitter.com/loststickienote) for updates, randomness, etc. or to scream about Zhangjun, my DMs are always open.
> 
> Comments, kudos, and feedback are always appreciated!

“I thought you hated me.” He cried, the tears spilling out, seemingly an unending torrent. _I thought I lost you forever. I thought I might never see you again. I thought I nothing would be worse than that one time we fought, and you ignored me for a week._

_I was wrong._

_This time it felt like I was dying._

Zhengting’s soft touch on his cheeks reminded Zhangjing of when they were younger, the other boy standing up to the neighborhood bullies, defiant and proud, picking him up off the ground and wiping away his tears.

 

“Of course not. I could never hate you, Zhangjing.”

 

“I hate you, Zhangjing.” Zhengting grumbles, flopping down one of the chairs in the corner of the room. “Why are you doing this again? You hate shopping.”

 

“But _you_ love shopping.”

 

“Yeah, but you suck all the fun out of it.”

 

Zhangjing pouts at his friend. “You owe me a favor for last week.” He ducks as Zhengting throws the bundled up shirt at him. “I didn’t realize that our friendship was so conditional that I owe you favors just because you pick me up when I’m drunk and can’t drive myself.”

 

He tsked. “I didn’t _just_ drive you home. I had to pull that guy off of you too.” Zhangjing glares at the other boy. “And I know you told me to pretend to be your boyfriend, but you also could have mentioned on the phone that he was _twice my size_.” He huffs exasperatedly.

 

Zhengting grins at him impishly. “Oh yeah, but it was sort of funny to see you standing up to him.”

 

Another pointed look.

 

“Okay, but for real, does this look okay?” Zhangjing bites his lower lip as he turns slowly so that the other boy can see the outfit, a deep blue sweater with colored accents thrown over blue jeans. “Do you think Yanjun will like it?”

 

Zhengting smiles at him radiantly, all pearly white teeth and sparkly eyes. “You look perfect, Zhangjing.”

 

“It’s definitely not perfect, but it’s getting better.” Zhangjing picked at the scab on his hand as he talked, a remnant of a small cut that he had gotten after his attention had wandered while cooking, the knife slipping slightly. He frowned at the redness underneath, the healed skin still a bit raw. “So it’s fine, Chaoze, no need to cut your business trip short just to come back and check on me.”

 

“No, no, it’s really been fine.”

 

Zhangjing thought back to the past few months, a strange time overall. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but Yanjun had seemingly grown distant from him recently, and his first instinct was to confide in Zhengting. Because the other boy was the one person he knew he could talk to about anything and everything. Even better, Zhengting always had a plan, always knew what the next thing to do was. But for some inexplicable reason, Zhengting had been surprisingly absent. And he wondered whether he had done something wrong, each voicemail left on the other boy’s phone sounding more panicked than the last.

 

It hurt thinking that Zhengting didn’t want to talk to him.

 

He didn’t realize just how much until the day he passed by their favorite café, the one they had gone to since they were kids. The owner knew their families well and had watched them grow up, and he had even come to his wedding, crying and congratulating him profusely after the ceremony.

 

He had popped his head out and waved. “Hey Zhangjing, where’s your other half today?” He joked.

 

_Zhengting._

He meant Zhengting.

 

It was a running joke, the owner swearing up and down that he had never before seen the two of them without each other. _It’s like you guys are two halves of a whole._ He didn’t realize that there were tears until the owner looked at him, concerned. “Zhangjing, are you okay?” He had blinked back the tears as best he could, reassuring the owner that everything was fine, nothing was wrong.

 

_Everything is wrong._

And it wasn’t until he got back to the apartment that he bawled like a baby, the sobs making his shoulders shake, his vision blur until all he could see were the disjointed and fragmented pieces of his perfectly white tiled bathroom floor.

 

He made sure to look presentable before Yanjun got back.

 

“Hey, Yanjun? Have you talked to Zhengting recently?”

 

“No, uhhh, why do you ask?”

 

_Because maybe you know what’s going on even though I don’t._

“Nothing, he just hasn’t been returning any of my calls the last few days. And I just really need to talk to him about something.”

 

“Maybe he’s just busy right now?”

 

_He’s never been too busy for me._

“Maybe.”

 

“Is there any way I can help you with it instead?”

 

And Zhangjing yearned to tell him. That it hurt not knowing whether Zhengting hated him, never wanted to speak to him again. That it felt unbearable not having the other boy around, the one that was the first to show him everything he could be, believed in him and listened to all his problems. And all he can picture is Zhengting, beautiful, perfect, wonderful Zhengting, grabbing his hand and looking back at him encouragingly.

 

But then he might have to explain to Yanjun that he needed Zhengting to help with _their_ relationship.

 

Zhangjing felt the truth dying on his lips, locked behind the cage that his gritted teeth formed, refusing to escape.

 

“No, you can’t. Not for this.”

 

He shook his head to clear the memory. “I’m _really_ fine, Chaoze. After Zhengting came back, things have been great actually. He’s not mad at me or anything, and Yanjun has been so sweet lately too. I don’t know what happened, but I feel like we’re closer than ever. We’re not really fighting anymore, and the _sex_ , well, the sex has been _fantastic_. He does this thing where-“

 

Zhangjing laughed at the gagging noises his friend was making. “Well, anyway, it’s all working out.”

 

“Nothing is working.” Zhangjing wails, trying to salvage the asparagus that he is almost positive is overcooked, judging from the amount of smoke that is coming off the pan. Zhengting looks up from his seat at their kitchen table and bursts out laughing at the mess. The other boy strides over and takes the pan out of his hand, nudging him aside with his hip. “You never could cook.”

 

He scowls at Zhengting, raising his hand up threateningly, which only makes the other boy laugh more. “You couldn’t cook either our first year in college.”

 

“Yeah, but lucky I learned or else we would have both starved.”

 

Zhangjing sighs but doesn’t deny it. At one point, Zhengting had gotten tired of them binging on take-out so much and had declared that he would learn how to cook. Three ruined pans, five times setting off the fire alarm, and one almost burnt down dorm later, and Zhangjing was suddenly getting edible bordering on _good_ food at least twice a week at his friend’s place. Zhengting had definitely been his savior during final exams week.

 

Zhengting hums while he cooks, and Zhangjing is startled at the question. “Why are you guys doing this whole thing? You hate celebrations. And isn’t seven an odd year to be celebrating anyway?”

 

He smiles fondly to himself. “Because our wedding anniversary is also the same day we first met. And it’s been exactly ten years since that day in the library.”

 

Zhangjing groans. “We wanted to celebrate with everyone, friends and family. So that’s why we’re doing a private, just-the-two-of-us dinner tonight and then the party tomorrow on the actual date.”

 

“You must love him a lot to subject yourself to this.”

 

_I do._

“I really do. Speaking of,” Zhangjing glances anxiously at the clock on the wall. “Yanjun should be home soon so…”

 

Zhengting rolls his eyes. “Yes, yes. I know.”

 

The other boy winks at him as he leaves. “Have fun.”

 

Yanjun walks through the door less than fifteen minutes later, and Zhangjing swears that the other boy somehow manages _every time_ to look better than the last time they saw each other. Yanjun’s tie is loosened at the collar, messy, and his jacket is slung over one shoulder, his briefcase in his other hand. The very definition of workplace chic. And suddenly, Zhangjing wonders if he’s too underdressed, his sweater and jeans under the apron seemingly juvenile in comparison.

 

But before he can say anything, Yanjun is in front of him, easily picking him up and setting him on their kitchen island countertop. He yelps when the other boy begins to nuzzle his neck. “Yanjun, stop, we’re supposed to have dinner.” Zhangjing squirms, trying to wiggle out of the other boy’s grasp.

 

Zhangjing feels his breath catch in his throat. “Can’t I have dessert first?” Yanjun’s eyebrow cocked suggestively.

 

He has just barely finished murmuring his assent before Yanjun puts him in his mouth.

 

Zhangjing groans at the noise from his phone indicating a text. He feels lazy, snuggled deep into their blankets on the bed, tired after the sex, the dinner, the second round of sex, but he reaches out anyways to check the notification. “Who is it?”

 

“Just Zhengting.” He buries his head in the crook of Yanjun’s arm.

 

_Happy Anniversary! I’ll see you tomorrow at the party._

Zhangjing sighed at his friend who was clearly wasted already, head slumped down on the bar in the hotel lobby. _God, and it’s only 8 at night._ He rubbed Zhengting’s back soothingly, his fingers moving up like habit to curl in the other boy’s hair. “Zhengting, let’s get you sobered up. The wedding is tomorrow morning, and I really need you standing up as my best man.” He joked, patting Zhengting’s hair. The other boy groaned, tilting his head slightly to peek at Zhangjing, his eyelashes fluttering as he struggled to keep his eyes open.

 

“Zhangjing?”

 

“Yes, it’s me.”

 

He wasn’t quite able to catch the next words, and Zhangjing bent down, bringing his face closer to Zhengting’s. “What did you say?”

 

“Don’t.”

 

“Don’t what?”

 

Suddenly Zhengting seemed a lot more sober than he was supposed to, his eyes bright and shiny, tears gathering at the corners. And the other boy blinked furiously, only serving to make the wetness cling to his eyelashes instead of wiping away the tears. And Zhangjing leaned in even closer just to hear the other boy because Zhengting was mouthing the words, but no sound was coming out of his bright red stained lips. And he’s so close that he can feel Zhengting’s breathing, the wisps of air tickling his face.

 

“Don’t marry him.”

 

_Why?_

“Just don’t.”

 

“But I love him, Zhengting.”

 

_More than anything._

“Anything else that I can do?”

 

Zhangjing runs his hand through his hair, frazzled. The party is due to start in a few hours, and they were still in the kitchen cooking for their guests. _Not to mention the apartment isn’t entirely clean yet either._ “No, no, Zhengting. You’re already doing enough with making the cake. Don’t worry about helping with anything else.”

 

He straightens the stack of papers strewn over their coffee table, deftly avoiding running into Yanjun who is vacuuming the carpet. _Now what was I planning on doing again?_

 

Zhangjing doesn’t remember, and he groans hearing the sound of his phone ringing again. “Why, of all days, does everyone choose to call me _today_?”

 

Zhangjing glanced at the clock again, feeling the weight of being alone pressing down on him. Yanjun had mentioned that he would be home late, another project slapped on his desk that afternoon, a mountain of papers to slog through. So he had called Zhengting earlier asking if the other boy wanted to come over and spend time together. But Zhengting had declined, saying that he had a meeting to get to that would run too late in the evening.

 

So he was left to himself after coming back from work.

 

In boredom, he had spent hours tidying up their place, washing dishes, cleaning the bathroom, doing laundry. _Hopefully, Yanjun will be pleased when he comes back._

 

But now it was 11 already, and still no signs of the other boy.

 

_Maybe just a call._

The phone rang twice before Yanjun picked up, and Zhangjing smiled hearing Yanjun’s voice on the other end, warm and sultry. “Hey Zhangjing, I’m going to be home soon. Maybe another hour or so?”

 

And the other boy talked for perhaps another minute before hanging up, but it felt like an eternity, with none of the words registering in his brain. Because he had stopped listening after the first five seconds, his stomach twisting into knots, a pounding starting in his head making him dizzy. And all Zhangjing could hear were those first five seconds over and over in his head.

 

_Maybe another hour or so?_

_Hour or so?_

_Hour or so?_

But it’s not the words that were echoing in his head, though they were explicitly tied in to the moment repeating over and over again.

 

A laugh.

 

Unmistakably Zhengting’s.

 

He’d never _not_ recognize the other boy’s laugh.

 

Especially Zhengting’s flirty _fake_ laugh.

 

Because he’s heard it a million times before.

 

At parties, the bar, the club.

 

The one that gets guys in Zhengting’s bed.

 

Zhangjing barely made it to the toilet in time. And he wondered if he was going crazy because all he could think about was that he didn’t want to get the bathroom floor dirty. Because he just cleaned the floor. And it was still shiny and perfect and, and, and… He threw up a second time. And now that the tears started, they wouldn’t stop, the sobs making his shoulders tremble and his stomach hurt. And he was still sitting on the floor of their bathroom thirty minutes later, dry heaving.

 

He sat there until there was nothing left in him, empty.

 

And he pretended to be sleeping later on when Yanjun climbed into their bed, softly whispering his name, his back to the other boy.

 

Zhangjing woke up with a splitting headache the next morning, the dried tears feeling grimy on his cheeks. Yanjun had already left for the day, a reminder text left on his phone. _Dinner with Zhengting._ And he ran to the bathroom again, but there was nothing more in his stomach.

He climbed back in bed under the covers, curling up into a ball, his stomach still hurting and painful, the tears still falling. _Yanjun and Zhengting. Zhengting and Yanjun. Yanjun and Zhengting. Zhengting and Yanjun._ And with horror, he connected the dots in his head. Zhengting ignoring him for weeks then coming back. Yanjun being so much closer to him lately. Zhengting reassuring him of Yanjun’s devotion during the other boy’s work nights. Yanjun coming back late at night and fucking him hard and passionately until all that was left was the feel of Yanjun dug into every crevice of his body, with only the other boy’s name in his mouth.

 

Zhangjing wondered if Zhengting screamed Yanjun’s name when he came too.

 

Everything hurt.

 

Hurt as much as the first time, the first time he had arrived to the restaurant late with Zhengting, with Yanjun coming from work separately, for a dinner. And the hostess was chatting with Yanjun, smiling as they neared. “Oh, you must be the boyfriend that Yanjun’s been talking about. It sounds like he’s really lucky to have you. How long have you two been together?” A beaming smile.

 

And that awkward silence when the three of them realized she had turned to address the question towards Zhengting.

 

Zhangjing had wanted to sink into the floor with embarrassment, his voice small and squeaky, fighting the urge to hide behind Zhengting. “No, uhhh, actually…” He sputtered. “…I’m the boyfriend.”

 

The hostess’ eyes had widened in surprise, her cheeks aflame. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

 

_Am I not enough for you, Yanjun?_

 

The question swirled in his head, an endless loop, until he finally drifted off to sleep.

 

Zhangjing wraps his arms around Yanjun in a backhug as their guests start arriving, exhausted already. _And the party hasn’t even started yet._ The taller boy is warm and solid, a welcome relief for him to lean on, his cheek pressed tightly against Yanjun’s back. And Zhangjing sighs as Yanjun links fingers with him from the front, the other boy’s hand laying over his. “How are you doing?”

 

“I’m fine, just a bit tired.” Zhangjing mumbles. “We made a lot of food this morning.”

 

“Yeah, lucky us that Zhengting was here to help do the cake or we never would have finished.”

 

“Yeah, definitely.” Zhangjing peeks out from behind Yanjun’s back, catching sight of Zhengting entertaining some of their guests. “I’m glad he came over to help.”

 

The nap hadn’t helped at all.

 

Zhangjing woke up to the sound of rain hitting the window, the room dark though it wasn’t even night yet. Texts from Yanjun and Zhengting. The latter telling him that he was excited about dinner. The former letting him know that he should be ready in two hours to be picked up.

 

He stood under the shower far longer than usual today, feeling numb.

 

_Dinner with Zhengting._

He didn’t remember anything Yanjun said to him in the car, claiming that he was feeling unwell, the other boy pressing the back of his hand to his forehead, checking for a fever. Yanjun’s hands were warm and soft, full of concern and love that made him feel heavy, so, so heavy.

 

Zhangjing thought he’d hate Zhengting when he saw the other boy.

 

But he didn’t.

 

Because he couldn’t.

 

“Chaoze, I couldn’t possibly do that.” Zhangjing looked at his friend, appalled. “That’s so…”

_Bad? Desperate? Pathetic?_

Chaoze shrugged. “You’ve been trying to get his attention for so long now. You might as well try.”

 

Zhangjing bit his lower lip, indecisive. “That doesn’t seem like a good idea though.”

 

“Face it, desperate times call for desperate measures.”

 

“Fine, I’ll catch up with you later at the party. I’m going to go study at the library now.”

 

A few hours later and Zhangjing was ready to hurl his textbook out the window, the words on the page blurring into an unintelligible mess. The tap on his head startled him, his head shooting up in surprise. “Zhangjing.”

 

“Zhengting!”

 

He smiled brightly as his best friend, blushing at Zhengting’s look for the day, the round glasses sitting neatly on the bridge of his nose, the soft curls of his hair, somehow always managing to look perfectly fluffed. And the patterned sweater thrown over a long-sleeved button down shirt. He gulped nervously as a little furrow forms in the other boy’s forehead, one that he just wanted to smooth out with his thumb.

 

“I thought we were meeting later.”

 

“Slight change of plans. I need to work out some project details with him first.”

 

Zhangjing finally noticed the other boy standing slightly behind Zhengting, and his breath caught in his throat, his words coming out in a stammer. “Ummm, Zhengting, w-who’s this?” _He’s beautiful._

“This is Yanjun.”

 

_Just like you._

“Hi, Yanjun. I’m Zhangjing.”

 

He stuck out his hand for Yanjun to shake, smiling too widely in his nervousness, the other boy smiling back at him.

 

But all he could feel was his stomach twisting into knots at the thought of Yanjun working on a school project alone with Zhengting. Of this flawless guy potentially being Zhengting’s new boyfriend. And before he knew it, the words are coming out of his mouth. “Do you want to come to a party tonight?”

 

Zhangjing cornered Chaoze at the party when grabbing drinks, nervously leaving Yanjun alone with Zhengting. “Chaoze, we came with this other guy, Yanjun. He’s gorgeous.” Zhangjing groaned. “Like astoundingly perfect looking.”

 

Chaoze grinned at him. “That sounds perfect. Go flirt with him. Just like we talked about earlier.”

 

“But I can’t.”

 

“Why not?”

 

_Why not?_

“Because Yanjun is way out of my league.”

 

“So? Zhengting is too.”

 

Zhangjing let out another groan, whining. “Stop reminding me.”

 

“I’m just saying. You two have been friends since you were six. And you’ve been pining after him since you were thirteen. And you’ve been complaining about it to me since you were fifteen. So yeah, maybe if you grew some _balls_ and just asked him out, you’d find out whether you two could date.”

 

Chaoze laughed.

 

“Or maybe you could try flirting with this Yanjun guy, and Zhengting will realize what he’s missing and get so insanely jealous that he asks _you_ out. Either way, I’m tired of you whining about it, so just do _something_. Because I won’t be subjected to another three years of this purgatory.”

 

So Zhangjing spent the rest of the night flirting with Yanjun, hoping that Zhengting would comment, but he wasn’t sure whether the other boy even noticed, being too busy getting far too drunk, leaving him accompanying Zhengting at the end of the night in the bathroom.

 

The days of flirting turned into weeks, into months.

 

And then one day, he woke up and the first person he thought of was Yanjun.

 

Not Zhengting.

 

“Happy anniversary! To Zhangjing and Yanjun.” Zhengting exclaims, raising his flute of champagne to toast the two of them. “To seven years of marriage and ten years of friendship.”

 

Zhangjing looks at the two of them as Yanjun cuts the cake that Zhengting baked, their names frosted on the top in Zhengting’s meticulous writing contained inside a large heart, the red bright against the white.

 

The only two boys he’s ever loved.

 

Still loves.

 

Still needs.

 

Even when it makes him ache the nights Yanjun is late.

 

The cake tastes bittersweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, kudos, and feedback are always appreciated!
> 
> Twitter: [@loststickienote](https://twitter.com/loststickienote)  
> CuriousCat: [Requests/Prompts/Random Chat](https://curiouscat.me/loststickienote)


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